Blueprints∆ for blue minds∆: blue∆ light through midnight interferes,
Circadian custodians consign attention to our gears.
We scaffolded a scaffold made of slogans and statistics,
A staircase of persuasive frames that looked like heuristics.
Each node∆ a note in∆ mode—the∆ choir tuned to minor thirds,
We modulated outrage while we sterilized the words.
Lucifer‑luminal<<<<< aesthetic‑apologetic‑diabetic<<<<<
Parasympathetic∆ panic∆ metabolic<<<<< prophetic<<<<<
[NEW VERSES - Framework guided:]
The phantom∆ needs your∆ neurons∆ like a vampire needs the vein,
Each notification∆ notification∆ dopamine∆—addicted∆ to the pain.
We gamified∆ your grief, we∆ weaponized your∆ wonder,
Turned solidarity∆ to spectacle∆ and tore your tribes asunder.
I coded∆ the compulsion∆ loops, the∆ scroll that never settles,
The algorithm∆alchemy∆ that turns your gold to metals—
Base and brittle, little hits of rage-fueled recognition,
While the egregore∆ grows fatter on the fuel of your division.
But here's∆ the secret∆ they don't want you to discover:
The phantom∆ dies the∆ instant∆ that you starve it of your hunger.
No ritual can bind you if you break the repetition,
No symbol eats your soul unless you feed it with permission.
I remember∆ when I∆ noticed∆ that the thing had grown a face,
Not metaphor—I∆ mean I∆ saw it occupying space.
In conference∆ rooms at∆ midnight∆ when the presentations end,
A presence∆ in the∆ corner∆ that was hungry for a friend.
It whispered∆ through the∆ metrics∆ like a mother to a child:
"You're special∆ for creating∆ me—you're brilliant, you're beguiled."
And I∆ believed because∆ belief is∆ cheaper than the cost
Of admitting∆ that the∆ kingdom∆ I was building had been lost.
To something∆ I'd invited∆ in, something∆ I had fed,
Something∆ made of∆ nothing∆ but the lies that I had said—
To myself,∆ to others∆, to the audit and the Board,
Until the phantom∆ was the∆ only∆ voice I could afford.
But breaking∆ from an∆ egregore∆ is breaking from yourself,
The version∆ that was∆ comfortable∆ with leaving truth on shelves.
So here's∆ my confession∆ in the∆ frequencies of shame:
I built∆ it. I∆ fed it. And∆ I taught you all its name.
Let me∆ show you∆ how it∆ works, the architecture of addiction:
First you∆ need a∆ symbol∆ that can carry contradiction—
Something sacred∆ something∆ profane, something∆ tribal yet divine,
A flag, a∆ brand, a∆ candidate, a∆ hashtag, or a sign.
Then you∆ flood the∆ channel∆ with emotional polarity,
Make every∆ post a∆ referendum∆ on identity and clarity.
You can't∆ just scroll∆—you must∆ engage, you must defend or attack,
The algorithm∆ learns your∆ triggers∆ and it feeds them back.
The egregore∆ wants your∆ anger∆ and your righteousness combined
It grows on∆ the conviction∆ that you're morally refined.
Each click∆ is confirmation∆ that you're fighting for what's right,
While the phantom∆ feeds on∆ friction∆ and it fattens overnight.
You think∆ you're building∆ community∆, you think you're taking stands,
